


The Ashen Chronicles

by WitchTiara



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ashen Romance | Auspistice, F/F, F/M, Fantrolls, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchTiara/pseuds/WitchTiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About a year ago, I was motivated to write a short novel about ashen romance, featuring an all-fantroll cast. This is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is Suspi Kanol. You are a rust blood, though you tell yourself that you're ochre blooded. You have a very sweet lusus, who has a soft bushy tail, and she likes to scramble up and down around your hive, helping you find lost things, chattering softly at you, putting things up in tall cabinets, which you have plenty of, due to your strong sense of practicality when you were young. 

And yet, here you are. Faced with an absolutely staggering flushcrush on a hopelessly oblivious blue blood. Wherever has your practicality fled? 

Perhaps it left you when you first wore a dress and saw how pretty you looked. It was borrowed from a comrade, and was even redder than your color. You had the barest feeling that it was so red from someone being killed in it, but you completely forgot your suspicions when you put it on. The darkness made you look almost yellow-blooded, and you were convinced when you noticed your lusus nodding approvingly at you.

You obviously knew better than to try to steal make-up from a store. But you'd occasionally invite yourself over to a "friend's" house, and if she had a little more mascara or lipstick than she really needed, then you'd be happy to take a bit off her hands. You completely ignore the fact that you are breaking into stranger's homes and stealing from them. You just recognize that you aren't a hero and hope that nobody catches you and kills you. 

You open your similarly pilfered computer and get onto Trollian. Almost the second you do, she begins trolling you. You can nearly bask in the glow of the attention before you look at her message. 

KR: Hey!   
KR: You're on. Finally!   
HD: I'm here yes haha  
HD: Wasn't there something you wanted to talk about  
KR: Two thingss, actually!   
KR: 1, Sseeing you! :)   
HD: You're too kind   
KR: I'm going to the doctor'ss ssoon to get checked out for travel.   
KR: In fact, it may cut our converssation short!   
HD: That'd be bad :c   
KR: I know, right! Ugh!   
KR: But I'll be ready to ssee you ssoon, sso it'll be worth it!  
HD: You're sso cute when you do that   
KR: Hee hee   
HD: Can't wait to see you in person   
KR: It'll be sso great, I jusst know it!   
HD: When's your appointment anyway  
KR: You're right, I'll be quick   
KR: Jusst let me ssay thiss:  
KR: I might not be cleared for it,  
KR: Sso don't be too dissappointed if I troll you back in a little,   
KR: And ssay that I can't go.   
HD: That's not fair at all  
KR: I know. But I have no ssay in thiss!   
HD: Can't you pay for my ticket and I can meet you  
KR: I assked about that! They ssaid I shouldn't let a lowblood take advantage of me!   
KR: I try to be nicce to my friendss, and ssee them in persson,   
KR: And they won't fucking let me!   
HD: That's not like you   
HD: C'mon calm down   
KR: You're right, you're right.   
KR: Wow, you're sso good at thiss.   
HD: I'm not, really, I'm just   
HD: I'm noticing that you're upset, and   
HD: I'm telling you to calm down right then before you get really angry  
HD: It's really nothing special, anybody could do it   
KR: No, that'ss not true.   
KR: You and I have a sspecial bond.   
KR: I can feel it. I can   
HD: ...  
HD: Aren't you going to finish that   
KR: Right, ssorry, I'm leaving for the doctor'ss now.  
KR: Bye, I'll talk to you later whether I'm okay to go or not 

And just like that, she's gone. You'd be more okay if she didn't throw that symbol around all the time. You just wish her feelings were as red as your own. You really doubt that being in person will have her feelings go rouge. But you do want to meet her. 

You try not to fantasize about her appearance too much. She's clearly a beautiful blue blood. But how does her hair look? What shape are her horns? What is even her symbol? You don't want to be obsessed with her, but she might be your matesprit, and the prospect is exciting and new and being relegated to moirallegiance was disappointing but you still have hope. 

You have better things to do than think about her, though. She'll be gone for hours, maybe, and you don't want to spend every second wondering what the second thing was that she wanted to talk to you about. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta, and you are sitting nervously in a badly-lit waiting room. Right now, quadrants are the furthest thing from your mind. Your main concern is your mutant blood, of course. 

Your blood is an unbelievably bright shade of blue. When you were younger, you tried to sleep outside of your recuperacoon because of the childish notion that the sopor slime would make it glow in the dark, and you'd be a wandering light source. The idea struck you as strange and disconcerting and you are quite certain that you'd never see a good person glow like that. You were quite scared of those day-walking rainbow drinkers, and your lusus had to stay up quite late with you until your nightmares were simply too much and your custodian won you over. 

But right now, you're gripping your purse with ashy knuckles and trying not to nervously jiggle your foot. You were almost late, and now here you are, waiting! If there's not a decent explanation by the time the doctor sees you... Then, frustration might be the last emotion you feel before you get promptly culled. That is why you chose this particular establishment. No average blue blood would be caught dead here. They'd probably literally redirect any cadavers to a higher class hospital. 

The jade blooded secretary keeps giving you the eye when she's not taking calls or watching the janitors mop up blood. It is a curious and semi-accusatory look. If you were less concerned about dying soon, you might be able to flirt with her, which would hopefully keep her from looking your way for the rest of your time here. As it is, you try to patiently endure her gaze. 

Eventually, you're seen in. The doctor waves away your false-angry demands to know the cause of the delay. He mutters something about technical difficulties, which makes you glare at him. You let your glare slip a bit when he turns his back to lead you to the examining room. 

He never even pricks your finger. You're wearing a perfectly blue dress and perfectly blue lipstick, with a symbol decorating it that looks perfectly believable. It's a very basic check-up. You're nearly astounded by the level of care that went into it; which is to say, none. No care at all. He measures basic statistics: height, weight, horn length, et cetera. He makes sure you can touch your toes. And then he lets you go with a form. It is all that is required for a trip across the planet. When you realize that it is over, your knees feel wobbly and you just know that you have to visit your matesprit immediately. Oh! He'll probably even let you troll your moirail from his hive! 

Your steps become stronger as you're certain that you can meet your moirail in person in a few nights, and you haven't been killed for your blood yet. This is your reality. You're alive and you have people who love you and you will soon be able to lean against them, touch them, feel them, smell them. You are so, so happy. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep. No, really. You're flicking idly through your television channels when your babe shows up out of nowhere on your porch. When you open the door, she throws her arms around you and kisses you excitedly. After a while, she lets go of your lips to offer a secondary greeting. Then, she waves a paper in your face and screeches something regarding her other quadrants. You try to smile at her around the headache that's already building. 

Plond hugs you and asks for something. You nod an affirmative and shoo her on. While she's your matesprit, you'll let her have just about anything from you. She locates your portable husktop and logs you out so she can log in. She takes a place happily on the couch and you sit down next to her. You see her friend's trolltag and instantly recognize it as a girl's, so you don't bother trying to read their conversation. You pick up the remote and continue your search for something good to watch. Your girl is just too boring like this. 

You eventually settle on a fashion channel and watch the models travel up and down the catwalk. She glances up every so often and shoots you a look, but you do your best to not respond. You have no idea that she's jealous of the models because of their natural blood instead of their attractive bodies, and their ability to wear clothing in colors besides their blood. You don't even know that she is a mutant blood -- yet. 

To you, it is very boring and you wish she and her friend would shut up so she could talk more with you. You at least wish she would get off your computer and watch something with you. Besides, your red feelings are beginning to run sour. 

The evening grows too long. Your patience grows too thin. You can barely give a warning -- "Tell her goodbye" -- before you begin kissing her. She's startled, and slams the top down. You soften the kiss, put your lips forward more than your teeth, slow yourself a bit. She seems to calm down a bit and return the kiss. Her two little fangs sink into your lip, and then you change your mind again. If she wants to play that way, then you will play that way. You put your hands on her, starting at the shoulders. At that moment you hate her more than anyone else, and you dig your nails in. 

The evening begins to get lighter, and she eventually notices and uses that as an excuse to leave. You growl a bit, but you let her. You make sure she has that form, and place a sweet kiss on her lips. You've rubbed just about all of the lipstick off of them, so they're just about black. She leaves with a small and confused smile, and hurries home before the sun comes out. You feel your feelings redden again as the sun reddens the world outside your hive.


	2. Chapter 2

Your name is Suspi Kanol, and you just found out what the second thing was. You have now learned that your flushcrush has a matesprit. You are glad for Trollian to not show your rust-streaked face to her. You almost want to tell her to not come, but it will be a few days and you're sure that you can deal with her presence by then. You're just... upset. 

You weren't planning on confessing in that pesterlog. And, thank god, you didn't. But now you're left with a broken heart and she's forcing a diamond on you. You have a lot of conflicting feelings. About her, about him, about the idea of quadrants in general, about polyamory, and about the hemospectrum. You know just where to turn. But you're not sure if you even should. 

You eventually decide to. In order to keep your momentum, you begin trolling her almost instantly. 

HD: You're logged into Trollian so you must be there  
HD: Aren't you going to answer  
LM: OH, HEY.  
LM: FANCY SEEING YOU HERE.  
HD: I'm a little upset and I need someone to talk with  
HD: Won't you be that person tonight  
LM: THAT GIRL MAY HAVE MOIRAIL-ZONED YOU, BUT YOU COULD AT LEAST SEIZE YOUR ADVANTAGES.  
LM: THIS IS WHAT A MOIRAIL IS FOR.  
LM: GO TALK TO HER.  
HD: She's the problem right now actually  
HD: Can't talk to her about this unless I want my head cut off  
LM: I SEE.  
LM: DOES SHE KNOW ABOUT YOU CHEATING ON HER LIKE THIS_  
HD: It's not like that and you know it  
HD: I'm just really confused and in need of advice  
HD: Won't you please help me  
LM: FINE, I'LL BE YOUR LITTLE SUBSTITUTE MOIRAIL.  
LM: I'LL BE THE OTHER HALF OF YOUR ILLICIT PITY AFFAIR.  
LM: BUT WHEN THE NEWS BREAKS OF OUR LOVE, WE WILL SWING FROM THE GALLOWS.  
HD: I'm oddly ok with that 

You proceed to have the best, most open and honest exchange of feelings and ideas that you have ever had. It was amazing, and you feel more sure of yourself than ever before. But you look forward to your meeting with Plond, because you know just how to fix all your quadrants. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta, and you haven't slept much all day. You're excited about the upcoming trip, sure, but your mind keeps wandering to your matesprit. He was... rough. You didn't expect that. You haven't been together long, but he hadn't been like that before. You're in no position to break up with a seadweller, particularly after only a few days. Besides, what if he was just ... out of it, for some reason? You have to be willing to forgive him. Besides, that was some stellar kissing. You would just appreciate it if it felt less like he was vacillating black while you were kissing. 

It's the start of a brand-new night anyhow, so you climb out of your recuperacoon and shower and begin the evening. You go to the train station and buy a ticket for a train the next day, to take you as close to your moirail as possible. You get everything ready, because you'll be staying for a couple of days. You acquired permission from Suspi last night, and when you have your ticket, you go straight home and pack. 

You're concerned and excited and nervous and agitated and you lay on your floor and stare at your ceiling while you ponder your life. You think about your friends, your quadrants, your choices, your limitations. You eventually, accidentally, drift off into sleep. Perhaps if your lusus had pushed harder for you to sleep only in a recuperacoon, it would be harder for you to fall asleep out of one. By the way, nightmares plague you as might be expected. 

You're in a bright, hot desert. The sun covers your skin completely; you realize that you're nude. You cannot see anything. The sun becomes everything. It is all you can see. It is all that you can smell or taste. All you can sense is yourself and the sun. It feels as though it's an inch from your face. You can feel yourself burning under its heat. You can smell your skin drying, blackening, and withering away. But you can't even see your blood boil away as you cease to be. 

You wake up rather naturally, as though you didn't just dream about your fear. You get up and change your clothes before you decide simply to get into your recuperacoon. You much prefer a dreamless sleep. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep, and your girl is going across the planet to stay with a lowblood for a couple days. She thinks that that trash could be a suitable moirail. Well, you're not going to stop her. And you're certainly not going to try to accompany her. You definitely, definitely don't want to spend any time with someone as low as rust. 

However, your girl is out of town. This is a perfect time to work on your other quadrants. In fact, you skip ahead a few hours, days, until you're speaking, breathless, grinning, with mussed-up hair, to a handsome and strong fellow royal. Your wet breaths come out in puffs, your eyes are dazzling. His lips look a bit raw, as do yours. They swell with your proud purple blood, and you find it exhilarating. 

"Wow, you're great at this," you murmur, the words splashing against the lapping water. 

His smile is unbelievable. "You're not bad yourself." Those words make your chest expand, due to the heating of its core object. 

You lapse into a warm, happy silence, still panting. 

"So. What are your other quadrants?" he asks, seemingly as a way to wind down. You do not panic at the question. 

"Ugh, I got this bitch of a kismesis, and a real sweet moirail." You want to be flushed with this man. Yes, definitely flushed. It's better to call her a kismesis in front of him. And besides, it's half true. You do like to vacillate with her. And you don't mind mentioning your moirail. He's so handsome and smart and he always knows what to say. "My kismesis is out of town for a while, though, so I figured I might call you up, and," your eyes connect, "I'm glad I did." 

He smiles condescendingly. "But no auspistices?" 

You make a face, and he laughs. 

"Yeah, few people are quick to fill that quadrant. But, oh man." He smiles, like a lusus recalling a favorite troll. "It feels so good. If you've got your eye on anyone for it, just go for it." 

"You're the mediator in your relationship?" you ask with a smile. 

"Hellz yeah," he replies, and you both share a smirk at the shared cultural reference, which an outsider would surely not understand. "I love my two rivals. They're so petty with each other, and hold onto every wrong-doing. And of course, I give them both advice on their kismeses. They couldn't get along with anyone without me, and it's nice to feel needed." 

You find yourself smiling like a fool. You make some mental notes. His smile is brilliant, and there is no sweeter melody than his voice. You are going black for your blue chick, and she is going to have to deal with it. And you're going to have to find some suckers to auspisticize. Shouldn't be too hard, should it? 

You really hope that you find some people who need your help. 

Wow, would you just look at his proud smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Your name is Suspi Kanol, and you are cleaning. Your "moirail" is coming over soon, and you are going to woo her. Confess. You do not want to try to earn her love while your house smells like cheese. 

Your lusus is "helping," but mostly she's just fumbling with a sponge to keep her out of the way while you scrub and sweep and drench things in Lysol. Eventually you send her out to snatch a bouquet of blue flowers, and you arrange them prettily on the table. 

After a few hours, it's clean enough that you can clear out the cabinets and get rid of all old cans. You consider buying more food when you hear a knock. You worry that it's her, and you quickly discard your apron, but when you open the door, it's simply the mailman with a package for you. You take it and swat at your lusus' nose when she growls at him. 

You are still hurried, so you take it to the kitchen and open it with as much care as the clock allows. Under the brown wrapping paper is green wrapping paper, and you wonder if you have a caliginous admirer as you tear that layer off, as well. Under that, though, is a box and a letter. 

You know you will have time to read the letter later, so you just open the box. It's a necklace. You pause. Time relaxes its grip on you, and you carefully look at every silver link in the chain, carefully count the number of sides the blue jewels are cut into, on the pendant. You fix it around your neck and pick up the broom again, before you remember what you were actually doing before the knock.

Around eight, you decide that she probably won't come, and you close the shades tight to read the letter. 

You make a bit of a show of it, too. You pull up a thick red armchair to the window, because no matter what, the light is always strongest there in the day. You unfold it and rub small circles into the paper with your thumbs, feeling the texture before reading. 

"DEAR SUSPI,

I LOVE YOU. YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU, AND HOW MUCH. WE HAVE HAD MANY LITTLE FEELINGS JAMS, BUT THEY WERE ALWAYS WITH YOU CHEATING ON YOUR "ACTUAL," "OFFICIAL," MOIRAIL. WELL, I WANT TO BE YOUR ACTUAL, OFFICIAL MOIRAIL. TELL HER HOW FLUSHED YOU ARE FOR HER. PLEASE. 

I HAVE INCLUDED A NECKLACE. IF IT IS NOT THERE, YOU HAVE MY FULL PERMISSION TO GUT THE MAILMAN LIKE A FISH. IT IS SILVER, AND THE PENDANT IS A HEART INLAID WITH SAPPHIRES. IF THE PENDANT IS MISSING, AGAIN, FULL PERMISSION TO GUT HIM. I WANT YOU TO GIVE THIS NECKLACE TO YOUR "CURRENT" MOIRAIL, AND TELL HER HOW YOU REALLY FEEL, SO THAT ONE DAY, YOU CAN GIVE ME A NECKLACE IN THE SHAPE OF A DIAMOND, WITH EMERALDS ON IT. I WANT THAT DAY TO COME, SUSPI. PLEASE, FOR US BOTH, TELL HER." 

It was signed at the bottom with a large, curly script. You would have been ashamed to admit that you could not read it, if you were forced to admit it. But you won't be, because you fold up the letter and stick it into the gooey mess of a can of old peach preserves and watch the paper disintegrate and the ink stain the peaches black. Then you turn around and get ready for your recuperacoon. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta, and you still aren't there yet when the night is almost over. The other passengers on the train judge you as you pull the curtains closed as tightly as physically possible, which is far more than any of the others, and you can almost hear whispers of, "Afraid of the daylight, just like a little wriggler, how cute!" You don't care to hear them. 

You haven't been having the best day. Your lunch was underdone and you've had to use the toilet three times already. Your luggage weighed too much, so you had to leave your computer with your matesprit... though you suppose you ought to start adding /kismesis after that, from the hateful brush-off he gave you when he dropped you off. You've been trying not to think about him too much, but it's hard and it's a major issue and the ride is long and takes all night, and there's not much else to think about. You wish you had brought a book with you. 

But you think about the coming meeting with your moirail instead, when the thought of him just bears down on you too hard. She is low blooded, you know that and you don't mind it. Technically, she's higher than you, after all. There is no way in hell that you're going to tell her about your mutant blood, but you're still going to have some sweet in-person feelings jams soon, and you can't help but look forward to it. 

You fall asleep too easily for your fear, the other trolls around you think. But they do not know your story, they do not know your life, and they cannot be expected to know why you give yourself over to the nightmares so easily when you are already so filled with fear. But you simply put your head down as far as your horns will allow, and you sleep. 

Nightmares? Feh. This is not your normal nightmare. You are back at the train station, and Ofahy is at your side. You have forgotten your ticket, so he is buying you a new one. He puts his lips to your ear and murmurs, "How are you going to pay me back?" You fight the blush as you whisper, "The usual way," and he grins. Then he starts kissing your neck and glowing. He has you too tight in his grip for you to escape when you see the glow. He changes from kissing to a hard bite and sucking your blood. 

You try to fight him and push him away, but he pulls his head away first, still holding you tight. He is disgusted, and still glowing. He spits your blood out onto the floor and asks, "What kind of blue is that?" More flows out, staining your neck and dripping onto your dress, staining it lighter and brighter. Others see it, and they root for him as he bites more, harder, all around your neck, and then punches it clean off. You remain sleeping a little while, the vision of your decapitated head sitting behind your eyelids, boring into you, heavy and ominous. 

You awaken a little irritated, as though you were having a good dream and you were upset that it was being ended prematurely. The other passengers, having reached the same conclusion, stare at you incredulously. They wonder if you have some anti-nightmare magic, or if you took sopor beforehand, somehow. You are able to completely ignore them as you shift and stretch and take the smallest of peeks out the window to see if it is still day. It is, so you roll your shoulders a bit, one last time, and settle yourself down the other way, anticipating more dreams like that. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep, and you are sobbing into the arms of your moirail. It's nice to let it all out, sometimes. Some even consider it necessary. You doubt that part, but to have his strong frame to cling to, to have his arms holding you, to hear gentle, low noises from his chest, it was heaven. Heaven, almost as pure as when you were making out with a fellow king of the sea. Almost. You tell your moirail everything, but you don't tell him that. He'd take it the wrong way. 

You separate and start on the subject of your lusus. When tears begin forming and you start choking, he puts his hand to your face and gently paps you, and you can continue more calmly. After you have exhausted that traumatizing topic, you begin talking about your kismesis. You are suddenly very glad that you haven't seen him in the time between getting with her, and getting with your matesprit, so that you didn't introduce the topic of her as your matesprit, and now you can just talk about her entirely in terms of hate and rivalry, instead of trying to speak of the sugar on her lips and the beauty of her eyes. 

Speaking about Plond has you up on your feet in frustration, soon, and you pace back and forth while naming off her many faults, and your hands become very animated as you emphasize her imperfection. The standing up and the wildness of your hands makes it difficult for him to pap you in time before you kick something, but he does reach you and he does calm you. He offers to auspisticize you two, and something catches in your throat and you look at him in surprise, but you turn him down and ask that he remain your moirail. He smiles, tells you that he is fine with that, and hugs you. 

You feel your hearts beat in tandem, and you hold him tighter. You almost don't want to ever let him go. Almost.


	4. Chapter 4

Your name is Suspi Kanol, and this time, the knock at your door really is her. You open it in surprise and are pretty quickly tackled. She leaves her luggage at the door because she would rather hold you tight in her arms and roll together on the carpet floor than let either of you up to carry it in. She kisses your face, but avoids your lips. You find yourself forcing yourself to be okay with that. 

Eventually, she has had enough physical contact to allow you to stand up on shaky legs and pull the bags through the doorway. Then you close the door and she hugs you again, from behind, and pulls you down to the floor to cuddle. You're glad you cleaned it so well, with how much she's rolling in it. You're not sure why, but you expected a little more standing up to be involved. But you're still plenty happy to be so intertwined, and you can almost feel a free exchange of thoughts flow where your arms are wrapped around her neck, the line where your thighs touch, the small, quick bump of your noses. 

She does not know how you feel, but that is alright with you. You do not know how you will feed her, and you hope she has brought at least some money with her, and the activities you will do remains a long, blank list, but for right now, she is so happy, and you are so happy, and you are on the floor, wrapped around each other, and it doesn't get much better than this. 

You are nearly reluctant when she gets up and you realize that this must have been going on for half an hour if not more. You blush sienna, and follow her to the realm of people standing up. 

"I'm, erm, uh," you barely manage, asking what to do next. 

"Sso, uh," she chuckles and her lips form a banana-shaped smile. "What do you have to eat?" 

You wait half a second as the thought fully materializes in your brain, then you rush to the kitchen. She follows you bemusedly. 

"I've got, uh, pickles, which you probably won't like, uh, because they're sour, and I've got some meat, uh, deer and cow, and I've got, uh, uh..." You finally hit upon the jackpot. "Here's some chocolate!" 

Her eyes widen, as does her grin. "Chocolate?" It takes you a few seconds to realize that she also associates chocolate with you, and the reason she is grabbing at the bars of it is because she likes you, just as much as the sugar. You search out some blueberries and enjoy it together. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta, and you just finished a fantastic, desserty meal with your moirail. You hope she has room in her busy schedule to do nails with you. Judging by how willing she was to cuddle with you on the floor, first thing in the evening, you're pretty sure she'll deign to spend those few hours with you like that. 

But when you make the suggestion to her, she shakes her head before she says no. She hastily offers to take you somewhere instead, to the beach or to the zoo or to a Ferris Wheel. Her eyes light up at the thought of you two, caught at the very top of a Ferris Wheel, so you agree to that. But your diamond still aches at the thought of the unused pink and white bottles of nail polish. 

You wait in line beside her, and when it is your turn to get on and she indicates that she wants a thing just for the two of you, you add in that you're moirails and you want to be alone together. She controls herself as you follow her in. When the operator closes the door, you whisper to her, "You should be more careful about how you ssay thingss! He might have thought we were matesspritss." 

She takes a breath and looks about to say something when the operator pulls the lever and the wheel jerks into motion. She then takes a sharper breath and clings to the seat and she looks so, so scared. You immediately put your arm around her and start whispering "shooosh, shooosh," so she doesn't start screaming. A fear of heights. You note that and file it away in your mind. In the future, if she ever suggests something involving heights, you can remind her about the way her heartbeat was going like a squeakbeast's in a cat's paw. 

At the very top, her teeth stop chattering long enough for her to look you straight in the eye, and there's something in that gaze, something very determined, very concentrated. She opens her mouth to speak, and you wait for the words, knowing that they will be very important. But nothing comes out. There is a straining in her throat, you can hear it, but she can't say a single word. 

You have a thought, and you remove her glasses. 

"There, love. Now we're ssimply floating in the ssky. Don't be afraid. Tell me what you need to tell me." 

She has already gotten out a beautiful necklace. It's silver, and has a heart, with blue sapphires on it. 

"I..." 

She's still struggling, but she has the ability again. She's just lacking the words. You try to lead her. "That iss a very pretty necklacce. Who iss it from? Your matessprit?" 

She is working her jaw like she has the words, but has lost the voice. But then, hearing nothing come out of her mouth, she gave up and merely nodded. Then she found words, and voice, and ability, and began her story. 

You have no idea how false it all is. But she's desperate to keep you, in any quadrant she can, and she would live twenty different lies to please you. You, on the other hand, are way too gullible and eager to show your trust in your moirail. And the timing makes it all seem very believable, too. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep, and you are sitting at home, alone, bored. You want to call up your girl, but you don't want to seem needy, and you want to be in person when you tell her you want to go black. You could also call up your matesprit, but you don't want to bother him too many times in one week-end, either, so you decide to focus on your last quadrant. 

You don't actually know anyone in a rivalry that could need your auspisticizing, so you get ready to go out. You get pretty well dressed up and you comb your hair very carefully, and go to a bar, where lots of small arguments sprang up and snowballed into a brawl. 

You don't actually drink anything alcoholic there. You ask for a water and keep your eyes open for people starting a fight. You want to be the cooling water pouring over them, making them realize how stupid they look fighting over such a small thing, whatever that thing will be. 

You do not actually succeed. 

Later that night, you get a broken nose, because that guy wasn't really up for being auspisticized, and had gotten pretty good at fighting two people at once. You finally agree to a beer, just to numb the pain a bit as your moirail drives over to pick you up and drive you over to a hospital to sort that out. You hope the brute has a moirail that's coming for him, too, because you don't like the look on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're over halfway through this!

Your name is Suspi Kanol, and you are a wretched coward. You are going to have to fake a blue blooded matesprit in front of the girl who you hoped would be that blue blooded matesprit, but instead she's going to have to be the moirail you're going to pretend you don't have, in front of the green blooded moirail you wanted to have. Because you are a miserable, loathsome coward. Why hasn't some vile person set his spade on you yet? Oh right, because your blackroms would just end up as confused and painful as your redroms. Probably more so. 

You wear the necklace with false pride in front of her. She gives you a mischevious smile, full of innuendo just waiting on the tip of her tongue, but she has control, and you inwardly thank her for it. 

You go to the zoo the next night. The giraffes eat her strawberry ice cream, but she just laughs and brushes it off, and you share your chocolate-mint-chip, and she fakes jealousy and asks if you have been seeing a green blood behind her back. You laugh and say no. She has no idea. 

Before she has to leave, you sit on the carpet with your backs together and hold hands. You feel a strange pulsing energy, which you had supposed was her heartbeat, but then realized was both of your heartbeats trying to be like the other. You felt strange in that moment, like an out-of-body experience. Your horns touched, though, and the little lightning bolt jolted you from it. 

You were on the edge of a realization of something big. You were a little irritated to have it ended before you realized it, but you released her hands and got up anyway. 

She was very nearly hurt and confused to see you end this, but you offered her your hand and she got up, too, and neither of you actually complained. 

You said your last good-byes, and you asked her when she wanted to come back. That made her perk up, and she offered the incredibly optimistic waiting period of two weeks. You agreed to it, though, and as soon as she left, you started trying to figure out what to do with your beloved would-be moirail, now that there's been all that mess. 

You decide to pretend that you got the package too late, after Plond had come and gone, and you couldn't confess without the great encouragement that her letter gave you. However, she is going to be back in only two weeks, so you will confess then, and give her the necklace. 

But, about three things, you were absolutely positive. First, Plond was afraid of rainbow drinkers and wouldn't like you quoting a book that featured them. Second, she wanted to be your moirail when you would rather that spot go to somebody else. And third, you weren't going to tell her that you were lying, so you'll just tell her that you broke up with him and you sold his necklace to a pawn shop. 

And that's exactly what you plan to do. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta, and you'd like to recap while your train hurtles itself across miles and miles of landscape. You have a beautiful moirail. You have to leave her now, but you'll see her again in two weeks. Your moirail has a matesprit, who gave her a necklace. Your moirail is afraid of heights. Your moirail is not cheating on you. Suspi would never. 

You have a matesprit yourself, but he has been vaccillating black and that worries you. You're not sure you want to be black with him. You will be, though, because you just can't say no to highbloods. It's a weakness. 

Your ashen quadrant is empty. This should surprise no one. 

Your moirail is going to tell you that she broke up with her matesprit, and she sold his necklace. You will be surprised, but comforting. You love her, after all. You try to sleep on the train home. Almost no one recognizes you, and those who do, say nothing. Then you lay back and dream of your fears, like the sun, and rainbow drinkers, and being found out, and now, losing your moirail. All you can do is lay back and let your mind play you movies of all the ways your fears can happen. You find yourself being less afraid, though, with each time you blearily wake up. 

That's improvement. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep, and your girlfriend is back. You don't look forward to picking her up and having to tell her that you want to be just pure black. 

You sit back in the car, enjoying a last cigarette before going inside to meet her. Eventually, with a sigh, you throw it on the ground and step on it, and head inside the train station. 

She has her luggage and is smiling at you brightly. You try to keep your actions toned down until you have her in the car with you. Then, you break the news. 

"So... you..." Her eyes are a distressed puppy. They stare at you in horrified confusion, beg for you to take it back, change your mind, claim to be joking, but you don't. 

However, you put your arm around her shoulders and remind her, "Hey now, I still want to be with you. Just in a much darker sort of way." She struggles, and almost tries to get out of your grasp, but then she stiffens, and settles down. She leans into your arm and rubs against it a bit, like a cat. You smile at her, and show your teeth. She grimaces at you, and you are glad she took it so well.


	6. Chapter 6

Your name is Suspi Kanol, and you watch your habits closely for the time in between your moirail's visits. You vacuum each day, and two days before she comes over again, you clean the carpet again, thoroughly, knowing how much she liked to roll in it. The necklace got you enough money to clean all over again, but you don't have to clean as hard this time. 

You steal some other things as well, though, and you furnish your house a little more tastefully for her second visit. You steal a bouquet of bright blue flowers the morning that she is set to arrive, and set it neatly and prettily in a glass vase in the middle of the table. You wish you could have picked flowers that were her shade of blue, instead of this, which is much brighter. You don't know that it's actually exactly right, and when Plond comes through those doors, her cheery face will fall and she will stare at those flowers for a long time because she thinks you know. But you still don't. 

You clean and sweep and mop and clean the carpet 10x carefully and thoroughly. You clean every single dish you own, no matter how you got it. You apply more make-up than usual. You're not sure why, but you find that you like yourself better when your reflection has fuller, brown lips, and though black to brown eyelashes doesn't make much of a difference, you find that it still matters to you. 

You think you are ready. You are wrong. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta, and your kismesis is a real son of a bitch. You wish you hadn't agreed in that car of his. But, there's really nothing to be done, now. You can't break up with him, and you can't try to force him to break up with you. Your best bet, right now, is to just enjoy the relationship and get what fulfillment from it that you can. 

But he insists on joining you on your trip back to Suspi's place. You know that Suspi probably can't accommodate him. You know that he'd just be an irritating third wheel. But he insists, and he pulls the hemospectrum card whenever you even try to protest. 

You do not know that he is genuinely worried for you, despite now being your kismesis. You do not know that he's also hoping to find some poor, petty rivals to auspisticize, since he's starting to get a bad reputation for it in the immediate area, and he wants to try other waters. You do not know that he's even going to ask Suspi if she has any rivalries that are simply too heated for her to bear. You have absolutely no idea how Suspi's face will look when you come in through the door and he follows right behind you. 

But you do know that the way he holds you is divine, hands gripping you hard, and he makes you nervous, though he hasn't drawn blood yet. You are especially careful about hiding your bruises from him, though. If he were to see how they nearly shone, you would be dead. You do not look forward to it, though you know you will not be able to run forever. 

You pack, but a troll who is hiding herself the way you do, doesn't have much to pack. A lot of it, you leave in the suitcase. Ofahy is smart enough to not ask for your help. But he does invite you over and he kisses you and caresses you but keeps suddenly reminding himself that you're kismeses now, it seems. Because he keeps going gentle then gripping hard out of nowhere and there's danger in the edges of his mouth but you lick there anyway. 

Half of his hive is on a different level and submerged, and he's always very careful about waterproofing his electronics. You take a breath as you slide your foot off the step and into the water. He gazes at you as you slink into the dark wetness, and there's something there, some dark thought that you would enjoy so much. There isn't hesitation so much as waiting for the right moment, and he sneaks up on you and bites into you like a barracuda. 

You trip, and the blood leaves the mark sluggishly, and there's hardly a whiff of it in the open water because your hand shoots to cover it. You twist to see his face, grinning, and it's barely visible. You're relieved, because it means your blood is barely visible, too, but still you sit there, on the floor of his home, staring up at him stupidly, and your knees are in danger of shaking, and you don't know what you're doing, but after a little he offers you his hand and leads you back up to dry land, and apologizes for it, though you know he doesn't mean it, and you're happy enough. 

When you meet him to go to the train station, he brings only a very small bag, bare necessities, and you appreciate the thoughtfulness of royalty living on nothing for a few days. He returns your smile and pays for his ticket and lets you pay for yours. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep. You pay for your ticket with fake money and glare the attendant down until he hands over a ticket anyway. 

Your arm is around Plond's shoulders the whole way through the mess of trolls populating the station. You check out several little fights, and you wish you could maybe talk to them, get their numbers, maybe a Trollbook profile, but for some reason you don't want to let on to Plond that you're looking to fill that quadrant, too. You're not sure why, and you know that she might know of some people in need of an auspistice, but you also have a feeling that she'd just try to get out of this kismesissitude somehow. But you want to keep her there. 

You escort her inside the train and only let her up on her own a couple of times. After a while, she molds to you and falls asleep on your shoulder. You have mixed feelings for her, and you stare at her gently sleeping face for a long while. You're still a little red for her, yet whenever you think about your matesprit, those feelings shrivel and die away. You're still definitely caliginous. You're comfortable with a hateful relationship with her. 

You get the feeling that she doesn't really want to be your kismesis sometimes, though, and that disappoints you, just a little. You don't like considering that she is only pretending to feel that way for you. You want to be sure of her hate, since all the biting and scratching and kissing doesn't actually prove it. You can't help but think that if she doesn't really and truly hate you, then you must be missing out on a great kismesis somewhere out there who does. 

You have trouble falling asleep because it isn't second nature to you because your blood is normal and you never had the immature notion that your blood might glow if you slept in sopor slime, because you're _supposed to sleep in it._ You just hate her so much sometimes, even though she's absolutely innocent right now, and even though you don't know the secret behind her blue blood. But when you find out...


	7. Chapter 7

Your name is Suspi Kanol, and your would-be-matesprit moirail is dragging in her would-be-matesprit kismesis after her. You feel a nameless urge bubbling up, but you try to quell it before it gets clear enough to have a name. You just know that it will get to be unbearable if the urge has a name. 

You wait until it is acceptable to grab her by the arm and pull her over to the side to speak in something resembling privacy. "What's the deal with bringing him here?" 

She evidently wishes you might have shrugged off a third person being here, handed over a third room, or worse, let them sleep in the same room. You find yourself hating the idea. You wish she would have left the fishy bastard on the other side of the planet and just been your matesprit. But that continues to not be your reality. She answers you, "He inssissted. I couldn't convincce him not to come. Pleasse jusst let him sstay." 

You glare at him. He gets this beautiful highblood under his spell, and thinks he can just waltz into your home and demand a place to sleep, and food, too! You want to kick his ass. But you control yourself. Besides, a guy like him probably worked out and knew ten different ways to beat you. He definitely wouldn't be stupid enough to pick a fight he wouldn't win. 

You pause, and let him survey the area. He looks through your bookshelves, chuckling a bit, glances up your staircase, peeks into various rooms, and walks up to you. He informs you and Plond, "Yeah, I'll stay at a hotel nearby." 

She starts to protest, but he holds his hand up to her and she stops. "Sh, babe. I'll come over every night. But I ain't living with a lowblood." His eyes dart over to you for half a second, just enough to let you know that he finds you contemptible, and returns his eyes to Plond. "I'll see you later, though, love." He presses his lips to hers so quickly you might have missed it, and you might not have felt hatred and jealousy overtaking you before you calm yourself. But you find it really ironic that you need to calm yourself when so many people want to be your moirail. 

You huff as little as possible as he leaves to pick out a hotel and drop off his little handbag of stuff. He doesn't really expect to live with that little supply of objects, scarcely larger than your hand, does he? No matter how few days he's spending over here, there's no way that it could even hold a change of shirts. You turn to Plond and she cups your face and leans forward and gently breathes out a long, "Shooooooosh." You cannot believe that a guy who could be her matesprit would ever decide to be her kismesis. You hate him a little more for his stupidity, and you let Plond smooth it over. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta and boy, your moirail sure is worked up over your kismesis' douchey behavior. You hope she'll honor your relationship and let you keep him and not go after him herself. You stay in her presence for a long time, without moving, simply touching her face gently, careful not to smudge the make-up she has evidently applied. You hope that by staying like this, she'll be further reminded that you are deeply in platonic, pale love with her. 

She eventually relaxes and allows you to smooth her over, allows you to step closer and move your hands through her hair, pat it down and tuck it behind her ears, and you practically pet her, and she purrs. You enjoy this little sound, and you continue scratching until one of your knuckles brushes against one of her horns, and she jerks, and stares at you like she had been asleep and might have said something incriminating in her drowsiness. 

You shoosh her again, and she seems calm enough to function normally again instead of staring angrily at the closed door Ofahy left through. She leads you to the kitchen, as if you've forgotten where it was, and asks what you want. You smile and start rooting through her cupboard as if you've lived here with her since you survived the trials. She has made it quite clear that her home is your home, and you don't think twice about the implications of a blue blood taking whatever she wants from a rust blood. After all, you still consider her as technically being above you, which she is. 

You spend much of the rest of the night together, until Ofahy shows up again. He's all over you, and while you swat away most of his attacks to flirt/fight back, you also give in to a few, to remind Suspi who this seadweller hates. You do not know about the desires in her heart that she is trying to keep in the abstract, so that she can only feel a needling and a vague sense of disappointment instead of knowing what is wrong and knowing what she could do and knowing what she can't do. You do not know that you're bringing these urges into a more advanced, developed form, you do not know that these urges are getting closer and closer to achieving a name, and she doesn't want them to have a name. 

You know surprisingly little about the whole situation, but your blood is enough of a secret to make up for it. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep, and your girl is twisting and squirming away and smiling a lot more than usual. That isn't too weird, though. It's probably weird to be getting all black when her pink lover is six feet away, anyway. So you don't mind that she's half bending backwards away from your lips every time you try to kiss her, but you don't stop trying. 

You drew from your bottomless generosity to buy some fish for dinner. The lowblood has her back to you two as she scrapes off the scales into the sink, and you pick up a kitchen knife, a very impractical weapon, but you make flirty little pokes with it. You're radiating ebony dark charm, and though she shifts her weight away from the silver blade, she smiles and shows her gums. 

But apparently you weren't doing this secretly enough, because before you know it, the lowblood has stomped over to you and taken the knife away in the safest possible manner, and she sets it back in the wood block in the quickest way that could also be careful, but before she could pass the wood block full of knives into a cabinet out of your reach, you put your hand over hers. 

"What do you think you're doing? Are you trying to auspisticize us?" You stare point-blank into her eyes, but you do not try to search for the signs of honesty. You're just trying to intimidate her. 

"I'm not, I just don't want you threatening my moirail in my own kitchen!" She speaks low and softly, a perfectly lowblooded voice. Even now, she sounds like she's informing you of a Very Important Situation that requires your urgent help. 

You keep your shoulders as broad as possible, so that you look as big as possible. "I can threaten my kismesis whenever and wherever I want to, bitch!" There was nothing restraining the word, so it just naturally followed the others. You remove her hand and take out a knife again, a different one, long and thin and curled a bit at the tip, and you hold the thick, awkward handle in your hand and you give your kismesis a little slash.


	8. Chapter 8

Your name is Suspi Kanol, and she is bleeding. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta, and you are bleeding. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep, and she is bleeding.


	9. Chapter 9

Your name is Suspi Kanol, and your moirail is bleeding, and her blood is an amazing shade of blue. It's bright and seems almost to shine, and you kind of want to draw nearer to it, want to touch it, see if it's sticky or wet or thick or watery, if it will stretch out and look clear with dispersed coloring, or if it will keep its diamond-like wet gleam and maintain the color. But you also know that you cannot possibly fill a pail with her. While her blood intrigues you and makes you want to stay with her, you let go of that dream and let it float skyward like a balloon. 

The seadweller to your side seems equally surprised, but his shock is blowing him backwards while you are being drawn forwards. He is jerking back, like he's afraid to even touch it, like the beautiful reflections of light that cause even her wound to sparkle, would poison his rich violet blood. You find a little surge of hate, but you can keep it down this time, because you no longer want to be with her, and clearly neither does he, and your interpersonal hate is soothed a little by neither of you wanting her anymore. 

"Ok, that ain't natural," he finally says, stating the obvious to break the silence and to begin the discussion of what to do with her. 

"That's true, but we can't just kill her." 

"And why the hell not?" He has a point. "She's a mutant blood, that shade of blue just isn't natural. The drones'll kill her anyway when they come to her and see it, so why can't we just kill her now?" 

You look him straight in the eyes, and try to establish some form of superiority. You find strange lowblood pride hidden deep in your bones, and you use it to stand up taller. "You're not going to kill her, because I'm auspisticizing you." 

The words leave your mouth and hang in the air before settling to the ground like snow that no one wants to tread on. And yes, while Alternia never had snow, you have seen it before. 

Eventually, Plond stops making that utterly distressed face and whispers, "Thank you." Ofahy turns to her and growls, but you put a hand on his chest, keeping him back securely, and he looks at you again, then gives up. 

"Fine. Fine. I won't kill her. But she ain't got much longer, anyway. Just you wait." He hitches up his pants and turns his back to leave. Plond hurries over to you and hugs you.   
It is the start of a short relationship. 

 

Your name is Plond Umsta, and you are biting your lip as your ex-kismesis and ex-moirail work out his issues with you. You listen closely as he talks about his hatred for you, and try to gather your words and swallow your hesitancy. 

Eventually, he stops running his mouth and they both look to you. When you don't speak right away, Suspi puts a hand on your knee to try to gently encourage you. You take a deep breath and begin talking. You talk about how he makes you feel, how unsafe and volatile you felt around him, how evanescent you feel, how real and unreal, how dead and alive. 

They listen, and listen, and listen. They listen to your voice. You can tell that they're beginning to pity you a bit, but you don't let that information shut you up. You continue, not minding the way your S's linger between your teeth, ignoring the way your tongue gets in the way of speaking sometimes, and before you know it, you're not talking about him anymore. You're not talking about hate, even. Before you know it, you're laying bare everything you've always kept secret. Your breaths feel like they're drawing in thin air, but you can't stop. 

Suspi starts trying to calm you down, cut you off, but you don't stop making sounds until she gently paps your face, and you're able to be silent again. Ofahy looks a little blown-away, but after a little, the words struggle out, "I'm sorry." 

The two of you look at him in surprise, and after a while, you smile at him. 

 

Your name is Ofahy Gleep. Your auspisticized rival is dead. You're not surprised by this fact, though. You, well, you knew it was bound to happen eventually. You're even a little mad that you didn't get to be the one to kill her. Really, it's a damn shame, she still haunts you-- 

No, no, fuck that shit. She's deader than a doornail. You're not going to let some stupid black feelings for some dead trout stop you from living your life. 

Suspi suggests (you still see her every once in a while) that you're just a little pissed because of not getting to tell her how much you hated her, one last time. You need a right and proper good-bye, is all. You stand near her hive, and mumble a few words and maybe half an apology to her window. You spit on her lawn and get moving when some drones notice you loitering on property that ain't yours. 

But yeah. After that, you do feel a bit better about it all.


End file.
